


feasting on something brave

by horseshapedfire



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Comeplay, Cousin Incest, Emotional Constipation, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, that nebulous Erik-isn't-dead-AU we have all accepted as reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 02:33:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14322642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horseshapedfire/pseuds/horseshapedfire
Summary: They go weeks without being able to spend a night together, and when they do Erik fucks like he's trying to claw out a space for himself inside T'challa, like he would crawl inside T'challa's skin and inhabit it entirely, tear him apart from the inside if he could.





	feasting on something brave

The onset of the wet season has brought a stillness to the nighttime, air heavy with the promise of rain. In T'challa's bedroom the environmental controls have been switched off in favor of opening all the windows wide, the barely audible hum of vibranium circuits replaced by a fitful breeze that rolls down from the mountains and carries a taste of ozone. It’s not doing enough to cool the room, T’challa thinks, as he breathes it in raggedly, and exhales in moans that he suspects are embarrassingly loud, but is helpless to hold in. He can barely even hear himself over the blood pounding in his own ears and the rhythmic wet slaps of Erik fucking him. Were his furniture less robustly constructed, the headboard would certainly be beating an unsubtle counterpoint into the wall, he thinks wryly. Not that it would stop them; the exquisite stretch of Erik's cock sliding into him, the electric jolt every time he hits the right spot, is always a compelling argument against caring about whether he can look the Dora Milaje in the eyes the next morning.

A sharp slap to the upper thigh makes him yelp and twist, hole clenching instinctively, and Erik laughs breathlessly. “Yeah, pay attention. Don't get sloppy around my dick now. You know we ain't done, right?” T'challa makes an indignant noise and squeezes tighter, but a series of vicious thrusts right against his prostate has him almost sobbing, conscious muscle control abandoned. “Fuck, if you can't keep this hole tight, maybe I should use your mouth instead.” He feels like he can't get enough air, whining soundlessly, can't do anything but take it, folded in half like this, pinned between Erik's hands pushing his knees back against his shoulders and Erik's cock, stuffing three loads of come back into him, but the lurid image of Erik pulling out mid-fuck and shoving his wet, come-smeared dick down T'challa's throat-- face burning, he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out to touch his lower lip. Erik slows down momentarily, seemingly surprised.

“For real? Man, you're a fuckin’ freak,” Erik gasps, baring his teeth. His gold canines glint in the low light and his fingers dig in hard around T'challa's legs as he picks up the pace again. His thrusts come shorter and harder now as he chases his fourth orgasm of the night, and T'challa throws an arm up and braces against the headboard barely in time to avoid having his head knocked against it. They go weeks without being able to spend a night together, and when they do Erik fucks like he's trying to claw out a space for himself inside T'challa, like he would crawl inside T'challa's skin and inhabit it entirely, tear him apart from the inside if he could. He leaves marks on T’challa’s body that the heart-shaped herb will erase before next morning. T'challa wishes sometimes that he could carry the bruises and scratches a little longer, but-- well, the herb has certain other benefits: Erik had come inside of him twice before they'd even made it to the bed, sucked him off, then put him face down over the bed for T'challa's second and Erik's third orgasm.

“Oh, _oh_ fuck. I'm close.” T'challa's hole spasms around nothing as Erik pulls out and moves quickly to straddle his chest; he jerks himself efficiently, thumb and forefinger circled tightly just under the head, and T'challa stretches his legs out with some relief and scoots back to prop his head against the headboard. Erik shuffles closer, following him, his breath hitching. He whimpers when he comes, sometimes, a sharp, unguarded sound that reminds T'challa of the way he'd cried out, impaled on the blade of a broken spear deep inside a mountain, fifteen months ago; but this time he only bites his lip hard as his cock jerks and spits across T'challa's face and open mouth and doesn't make a sound.

T'challa licks his lips and swallows. Erik slumps down a little, rubbing his cock against the side of T'challa's cheek and jaw, catching his breath. His eyes are closed tightly. T'challa breathes in the smell of sweat and semen and runs his hands down Erik's sides, cups his hips where the rows of scars give way to smooth skin, and waits. Erik's face relaxes, and he looks heartbreakingly young for a second as he opens his eyes and grins at T'challa. He can't help but smile in return, and Erik leans down to kiss him softly, licking at the come on his face and no doubt smearing more into his beard. They'll both need to bathe, _again_ , after this, and T'challa wonders ruefully if he can get away with rescheduling tomorrow morning’s meetings. Probably not.

Erik snorts a little, as if he knows exactly where T'challa's mind has wandered to. “You thinking about all the shit you gotta do tomorrow?” He crawls backwards until he's settled between T'challa's legs, pushing them apart. T'challa stretches his arms out to either side and lazily spreads his legs wider. He knows what Erik wants to see, and sure enough Erik's gaze drops to his hole and the slow drip of his seed trickling out.

“Are you going to give me something better to think about?”

Erik laughs. “ _Ohh_ , I ain't done enough for you yet?” He swipes his palm through the mess between T'challa's thighs, then closes the same hand around T'challa's cock and gives it a few slow, considering strokes before wiping his hand off on the sheets and settling on his stomach between T'challa's legs, leaning down until his lips brush the tip of T'challa's hard cock when he speaks. “Fair. I guess you are a couple down.” Erik closes his lips around the head and sucks all the way down to the root and back up, pulling off with a loud slurp and smirking obnoxiously. T'challa narrows his eyes as Erik mouths aimlessly at the base of his cock, his balls, bites softly at the crease of his hips. “Would you-- stop messing around--” He breaks off with a gasp as Erik shoves three fingers into him without warning, almost kneeing him in the face as he bucks his hips off the bed. Erik presses a hand to T'challa's stomach in a gentle calming gesture, but his other hand works relentlessly at T'challa's ass. It isn’t hard for T'challa to come like this, just from the prostate stimulation, Erik's tongue soft on the head of his cock almost an afterthought, but Erik doesn't let up as T'challa's cock spurts; he comes back with four fingers, thrusting all the way up to the knuckle now. T'challa yells, oversensitive, and tries to twist away but Erik gets up on his knees, quick as a cat, for better leverage and holds him down with a forearm across T'challa's hips like a vibranium bar.

T'challa grabs wildly at Erik's hair, snarling; it's too much, right on the cusp of actual discomfort, and part of him wants to throw Erik off and hold him down and fuck him, sink his teeth into flesh in retaliation; the motion of Erik's fingers is obscenely loud in his fucked-out hole, spreading him wide like no one ever has. He pictures Erik's whole hand inside him, past where the scars start just past his wrists, and that's the thought that makes him grab gracelessly for his own cock, closing his hand around it just as he comes weakly over his stomach again, just a few drips. Erik twists his hand gently in T'challa's ass as he clenches through the aftershocks, licking at T'challa's cock through his fingers. T'challa is far too sensitive for that so he grabs Erik's jaw and pushes him off, and Erik just laughs and sucks three of T'challa's fingers into his mouth instead, tongue curling around them. T'challa heaves for air, still growling through his bared teeth, like a beast forced into an ill-fitting skin. He presses down on Erik's tongue, holding his mouth open, and Erik finally takes his hand out of T'challa's ass, stroking sticky-slick fingers down the inside of his thigh while nudging his face forward defiantly against T'challa's grip. T'challa wraps his hand around the back of Erik's neck instead and pulls him down and rolls him over onto the bed in one motion. He feels like his whole body is thrumming, simultaneously exhausted and energized; he is hyper-aware of the trail of come sliding ticklish down his leg, and under him Erik is very still, his eyes fever-bright. His skin prickles, and for a second he expects to feel claws at the ends of his fingers, piercing Erik's shoulders, but he is naked; both of them are, the panther suit necklaces safe in Shuri’s lab.

Erik licks his lips, and the moment passes. The boyish grin is back. “What do you think? Try for five tonight?”

T'challa laughs. “If I couldn't manage it when I first took the herb, it is certainly not happening now.”

“See, you keep saying that, but I think you just weren't trying hard enough. Or not doing it right. I feel great, cuz, I could go again.”

“Well, I'm happy to watch you try,” T'challa says.

“Then get off me, old man, and we'll do this in the shower.”

“If you take too long, I’m going to sleep. I do have things to do tomorrow.”

“Like me?”

"Would that mean you're staying?”

Erik doesn't answer for a long moment, not meeting T'challa's eyes. “Maybe,” he breathes finally. “For a little while. I don't have another mission lined up yet, gotta figure that out.” He looks unsettled by the admission.

_Stay_ , T'challa wants to say. _Stay with me, make this your home as it always should have been._ He knows better than to give voice to those thoughts; this thing between them has begun to settle but, T'challa thinks, one misstep could uproot it; he won't ask a question Erik is obviously not ready to answer. It would be absurd to have this conversation right now, anyway. He's sleepy and sated, feels sore and hollowed out and filled up in the best way, and he wants to watch Erik try to jerk off again while they shower, maybe push him against the bathroom wall and suck him for as long as he can stand it, wants to sleep tangled with him for what's left of the night. He carefully expected nothing tomorrow morning, let alone after that.

He senses he's been quiet for too long, because Erik closes his eyes for a few seconds and when he opens them again his expression has smoothed, and he wriggles out from under T'challa and smoothly stands up from the bed. T'challa rolls onto his side and contemplates the view. Erik rolls his eyes and reaches for T'challa's ankle, tugging him playfully to the side of the bed until T'challa stands up as well. Erik takes him by the wrist then, pulling him close and brushing his lips across the corner of T'challa's mouth; they breathe each other’s air quietly for a long moment as T'challa lets his eyes fall closed. When he opens them, Erik lets go of his wrist and walks towards the bath, and T'challa follows.

**Author's Note:**

> i have quite literally not attempted to write fiction in over a decade, but my thirst finally won out over my laziness and lack of talent (bob ross voice: "talent is a pursued interest"). unbetaed; any mistakes are all mine, as are the regrets.


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